


The Devil Inside

by Inforapoundd



Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Jealous Ivar, Love, Mildly Dubious Consent, Reader-Insert, Teen Romance, ivar - Freeform, ivar in highschool, modern ivar - Freeform, possessive Ivar
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-12 04:54:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29379531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inforapoundd/pseuds/Inforapoundd
Summary: Focussing on your grades and spending time with your friends in your final year of highschool, you are shook when you meet a mysterious blue-eyed boy from another school. Down the rabbit hole you go and the truth is, you couldnt get away from him, even if you tried.
Relationships: Ivar (Vikings)/You
Kudos: 9





	1. Chapter 1

There they were. The same unimpressed brilliant blue eyes. It was the second time that week you had seen them in the back parking lot at school.

The student car park was behind the main building where all those who either drove or smoked cigarettes congregated at lunch to sit in their cars, pump music, and yak. You didn’t smoke but had a car so hung out all the same. Students from neighbouring schools occasionally pulled in to visit, always staying in their cars and keeping a distance as these types of schools were full of rules and someone was always watching. That is where he fits it. The dark-haired guy with the cold eyes and the nice flat-black Camaro. Whether or not he was putting on airs, he looked dubious and the kids always hanging about his car were the shadier bunch in the school.

He had been coming around for a couple of months now and you had locked eyes with him once or twice. Maybe more. He always broke the contact first as if looking at you had been in error. Probably dealt drugs or something similar but honestly, you didn’t know. What you did know, with your sharp eighteen-year-old senses, was to keep to your side of the lot. Maintaining your flawless grades was your first priority with socializing a not to distant second. Plus, you had been single for less than six weeks so boys were not exactly a draw.

So… you thought nothing of it when Mark Hasting approached your locker when the end-of-the-day bell rang. Standing with your closest friends, Kim and Amanda, you were deciding on whose house to meet at after supper. Mark was one of those smoking-out-back-leather-jacket-wearing types but he was friendly with everyone so it wasn’t that out of the blue for him to stop by your locker and chat.

“What’s up ladies,” he smiled, looking rather fit for a guy who had never played sports. “Any plans tonight?”

Kim carried on loading her binders into her locker and Amanda gave a breezy ‘not sure’ shrug so you spoke up as Mark was a nice guy.

“Might meet up with some of the others at the beach by my place after dark. What are you up to?”

“Me and some of the guys are going to meet behind Macdonald’s at 9 pm. Go from there. Some boys from Claremont are coming. You should join?”

“Clairemont, eh?”

It was the other private school in the district, prestigious like yours but with the reputation for being wild. Amanda’s brother had transferred there a few years back for their higher-profile basketball program and she had bitched that her parents were playing favourites ever since.

“Yeah, okay, maybe,” you answered not sounding convinced.

“You gonna be driving?” he asked which surprised you as you were the only one with a car. Kim had one that she supposedly shared with her brother but you had maybe seen her with it twice.

“Well, I won’t be getting a driver’s license in the next 6 hours,” Amanda laughed.

“Fair enough,” Mark smiled. “So maybe see you there?”

Hmm. That was interesting and you wondered if Mark or one of the other outbackers were interested in one of your friends. The crowd you ran with were the popular sort; the academics, preps, and jocks. Not the smokers who hit the bong on the weekends but at your school the cliques mixed well. Unlikely hookups weren’t that out of the ordinary but you certainly weren't interested. Hell no.

\----

The evening air was a bit sharp so you were glad you wore your white denim coat and blue jeans. It was nearly dark and you were with a group of eight or ten of your friends standing between parked cars at the playground not far from your school. The closest street lamp was out so the only light came from the radios playing in the cars lined up in a row. The music was just loud enough to hear but not grab the attention of the tidy homes across the street.

If you were being honest, you were bored and the night was shaping up to look like the previous few weekends. Deciding to have a drink, you grabbed a cider from the full box in your trunk, passing your keys and responsibility over to Kim. ‘No problem’ was her reply that came in the form of a quick nod. You had been driving her around for years so she didn’t mind.

The headlights of two vehicles rolling past and pulling in made you all turn and look and you immediately recognized both. It was Mark’s white van and the low-slung Camaro tailing close behind. Blue eyes was in there. He had to be and it wasn’t immediately apparent but you had some reaction, nerves maybe or just feeling a bit on the spot for brushing off Mark’s earlier invitation.

“Guess nothing was happening at Macdonald’s,” Kim laughed.

“Shocking,” Amanda added sarcastically, taking a drag of her cigarette and blowing the smoke in the opposite direction.

“Cause hanging out beside the jungle gym is so much cooler,” you droned, squinting at the now parked cars, noticing that the Camaro looked full of people.

Not letting your sights linger, you turned back to your friends, taking a few long pulls of your drink, and heard car doors open and close. The sound of footsteps crunching over gravel came towards you.

“It’s Amanda, right?” a girl’s voice called and in unison, you all spun around.

“Yeah, that’s right,” Amanda answered, in her overly cheerful voice.

Before you was a tall blonde girl, a little older than you with very distinct features; a small narrow nose and the largest eyes you had ever seen.

“I graduated with Lani last year at Claremont,” she explained.

Lani was Amanda’s older brother, a year and half older, popular but a total prick unless he needed something.

“I’m Torvi,” she smiled and you all nodded your hellos.

“Hey, we are headed to my boyfriend’s if you want to come? Have some drinks. Can’t blow the doors wide but you girls are welcome to come.”

“Yeah, sure, okay,” Kim and Amanda’s mixed replies came at the same time.

Knowing the plan was set, you took a few more drinks of your cider, finishing it off, wondering who exactly was in that car.

The tall blonde turned and began to head back but stopped and looked in your direction.

“You’re not driving, I take it?” she glanced at the empty you were returning to the box in your open trunk.

“For once, no,” you replied quietly.

“Ride with us,” she jerked her head in the direction of the Camaro. “The girls can follow,” she smiled and you felt caught-off-guard.

“That’s okay,” you smiled back. “We’ll see you there.”

“No,” her smile widened and she took a step closer, offering her arm for you to link up. “I insist.”

The Camaro was nice. Really nice. Classic with a black leather interior. It had the faintest smell of cigarettes, beer, and leather. A total guy car and not the BMW SUV’s you were used to. You like it far more than those. But the atmosphere was anything but nice. For you at least. A tall, rather serious guy had opened the door, folding the seat forward for you and Torvi to climb in. Her boyfriend, you assumed, by the way he smacked her ass when she slid past.

Mr. Blue-Eyes was the driver and when you settled back in the seat, you realized those nerves earlier had nothing to do with running into Mark. It was him. As your mom would say, ‘trouble with a capital T’ and being that close to him made you feel.....funny.

The ride was quick and the house you were heading to turned out to be only a few minutes away but it felt like a different neighborhood. They were mansions; the original estates in the area before it was all chopped up into lots and sold. The gates on the driveway were open and you drove up a long driveway to a beautiful Tudor style home set well back from the road. It looked about 10,000 square feet from the driveway and if it hadn’t have been for those cold blue eyes glancing up at you in the rearview mirror, you would have turned around to make sure your friends were still following.

Inside the house was equally as amazing; soaring ceilings and a gracious front entry, an incredible kitchen with a large family room off to one side. You settled with Torvi on a large leather couch and from where you were sitting, you saw that the French doors on the other side of the pool table led out to a massive back-lit pool. Homes like this weren’t that uncommon in your world but you still appreciated its elegance.

There wasn’t a parent in sight and no mention of one which struck you as normal. It was always the wealthy and unsupervised doing the most scandalous things. But no one there was doing anything scandalous. You were just there for drinks. Right?

Torvi handed you some type of boozy beverage and you were unsure as to why, yet relieved, that she had taken you under her wing.

Entering the room and walking with the help of some customized crutch, the Camaro driver headed straight for the leather chair on the far side of Torvi. He didn’t make eye contact with you or anyone else but you still felt noticed. The way he hustled made you think that you shouldn’t watch and you wondered if that crutch was the reason he always stayed in his car at school.

Dropping it onto the hardwood floor, he sank into the seat, immediately raising his hand and accepting a bottle from Torvi’s boyfriend who walked in behind, carrying a case of beer.

“I haven't introduced you,” Torvi raised her hand. “This is my boyfriend, Ubbe, and his brother Ivar,” your eyes flitted over to your driver but he was gazing at something, nothing, off in the kitchen. “And their other brother, Hvitserk is just outside having a smoke with his girlfriend, Margrethe.

Your eyes shifted to the French doors and you could see the outlines of two people kissing on the patio.

Okay, realization struck you. They were the Lothbroks! You had heard of them. Definitely. Just couldn’t recall what but you knew it wasn’t good and you probably shouldn’t be there. Where were your friends and why hadn’t Torvi told them your name? As if on cue, Amanda and Kim and the long-lost Mark Hasting strolled in, cheerful and boisterous and thankfully taking the pressure off you from having to talk. 

Someone had turned on music and the other brother and his blonde-haired girlfriend came inside to join. A game of pool begun and you stayed on the couch with your friends and Torvi. Ivar remained slumped in his chair, giving the impression he would have preferred to be anywhere but there.

It was awkward. Torvi and your friends gabbed about the differences in schools and universities and you quietly finished your drink but, in a flash, it was replaced with another.

As always Mark was the most animated in the room, and Ubbe, who then seemed far more at ease, was listening intently to the details of how Mark’s father made so much money selling appliances. Kim was a good sport despite not drinking and joined in the conversation knowing many of the same people as Torvi.

You could have sworn Ivar scoffed when you rolled your eyes at Amanda who went outside to smoke weed with Mark and Hvitserk but when you glanced over, he was back to staring in the opposite direction and picking the label off his beer. It felt strange….. sitting in a room with lively people and you and he were the only ones not joining in. You weren’t anti-social but for whatever reason that night, or in that house, the atmosphere felt… heavy. It wasn’t the alcohol though; you were almost sure it was him. Ivar. Every bit of your focus seemed to be spent on ignoring him and for some strange reason, you felt he was doing the same.

“Whereabouts is the washroom?” you whispered to Torvi and she raised her hand to point down the hall.

“It's just down the...”

“I need another beer,” Ivar interrupted, his voice so much different than what you expected. It was smoother somehow, breathier. “I’ll show her,” his eyes flicked over to you as he grabbed his crutch and pushed himself up out of the chair.

Your instincts from before seemed right as his body language told you he did not enjoy people walking behind him. He moved with a distinct limp but it was still agile in a way, his crutch obviously an extension of his body. But his mood seemed troubled.

Christ, you thought, as you followed, he could have just told you where it was.

Through the kitchen, he moved down a long hallway lined with closed doors and you were almost certain one of them had to have been a bathroom. Just as your feet slowed assessing where you were going, he glanced back and jerked his head for you to keep moving. Ohh-kay……

Opening the door at the very end, he walked in, not looking behind. Stopping on the threshold you surveyed the room and there was no question it was his. It had the same dark wood floors and wood trim, a neatly made bed with navy linens, large windows, fitted with wooden blinds, bordered by matching navy curtains. The room was lined with furniture; a dresser, desk, shelves loaded with books but it was the framed picture hanging above his bed that held your attention. Behind glass was a charcoal drawing of a scraggly, long-haired, bearded man who seemed to be missing an eye. Nice room, you thought, but the art was a touch dramatic.

As he dropped down onto a couch and stretched his legs out onto a low coffee table, he pointed at an open door which you assumed was his private bathroom. Ohh-kay…. you thought as you tiptoed past him and into the bathroom, closing the door. Again, it struck you how clean everything was, even smelt good like some faint cologne and you hoped the thick wood door with muffle the sound of you peeing.

After washing your hands, and a lip gloss touch-up, you opened the door, not sure he would still be there. He was…. lounging on the couch, watching the tv on the adjacent wall. There was no acknowledgment when you re-emerged so you mumbled some sort of ‘thanks’ and crossed the room, heading for the door. 

“Are you afraid of me?’ he spoke at your back making you stop and turn around. Aside from the glances in the rear-view mirror, it was the first time he had looked at you directly. And holy shit, was it ever direct.

“No,” you lied trying not to sneak a peek at his tight white shirt stretched over his muscular chest and arms. You definitely didn’t want to be caught staring at his perfect hair, styled in that ‘perfect hot guy way.’ Holy god, he was striking, incredibly hot with his square jaw and smooth tanned skin. You hadn’t fully taken it in until then…. when his piercing blue eyes held you frozen in place.

The angle of his chin shifted just slightly, and he subtly squinted making you think he was somehow pleased with himself. A sweep of goosebumps spread over your skin and you crossed your arms as if suddenly feeling a breeze. Was your stomach suddenly upset? Or, maybe it was your nerves clawing out your insides.

“Then sit,” he said casually, as he looked away and you detected the slightest hint of a dare in his tone.

Why? You wanted to ask but didn’t, wondering if he was trying to intimate you. One thing you did suspect was that his aloofness was only to draw you in. Funny, you thought. Wouldn’t work. You had to get back to your friends….

“Okay,” you instead answered and walked over, slowly sitting down, your body sensing the two inches of space between you. Great, it was a love seat. 

Like the force of nature he felt like, he somehow read your thoughts.

“Get me a beer,” he said, nodding in the direction of the bar fridge next to the tv. What teenager had a bar fridge in their bedroom, you wondered, only realizing then that he had ordered you instead of asking.

If your eyes hadn’t scanned his crossed legs extended out on the coffee table, his crutch on the floor below, you might have told him to get his own…. but…you didn’t. Did he not want to get up? Was he in pain? Was it his legs or his back that hurt him? Maybe a knee? Was it from sports? Or, had he been in an accident with his car? The blank one. It looked fast and he looked like he drove fast too.

Slowly but with no attempt to conceal it, he let out a long sigh, snapping you out of your analysis and you realized that perhaps you were a bit drunk. But out of the corner of your eye, you saw him smirk.

“Get a beer for yourself,” he chimed as if offering a token reward for your obedience.

That was likely the extent of his chivalry anyway. Returning with two beers you handed him one not expecting and not getting any sort of thanks. His eyes stayed glued on the tv.

“Do you even like beer?” he asked, and it somehow felt like a dig.

“Yeah,” you answered taking a small sip.

God, you hated beer.

For a few minutes, you both stared at a music video, some ethereal, whining song, about a hunter in the night sung by an emo looking guy. It suited Ivar perfectly and the longer you listened the more uncomfortable you felt being there… alone in his room……essentially two strangers.

Mentally, you cleared your thought. “My name is…”

“I know your name,” he cut you off sounding annoyed.

It was getting even stranger and you wondered if your friends would eventually come find you….

“Pray to your god, open your heart, whatever you do, don’t be afraid of the dark.”

…the song played on and it felt like the tension was building but what could you say? You didn’t know him and weren’t going to make small talk. Just as the air seemed to be getting sucked out of the room, you shifted on your seat making him look over at you.

“What?” you said sounding defensive.

Without a word, he just stared at you. The skin on your cheeks began to warm and you felt embarrassed.

“Well, this was fun,” you pushed your hands down into the couch to get up but he grabbed your forearm. Gasping, your eyes locked with his blue ones, his brows pinched and his eyes narrowed.

“I thought you weren’t afraid of me,” he whispered and you noticed how much closer he was all of a sudden. Jesus, those eyes…. they were clear and cold yet somehow dark and felt bottomless. You just stared back as if hypnotized but it was the quick flutter of his lashes and a look of uncertainty that flashed across his face that had you come back to the surface.

“My. Arm. Please,” you articulated through clenched teeth, and you knew you sounded scared.

Tilting his head, his lids blinked again and he began to chuckle, flashing a forced smile and releasing your arm. Smoothly, casually, he leaned forward and grabbed the TV remote off the table as if picking it up had been his plan all along. Slamming your beer down, you stood and rushed for the door. You were fucking done with Ivar Lothbrok.

“See you at school, beautiful,” he called in a patronizing voice.

As you rounded the corner, the volume of the tv rose and the last words of the song felt foreboding.

“Cover your eyes, the devil’s inside.”


	2. Chapter 2

The following week was mundane. Not once did you catch a glimpse of the black Camaro at school and you had spent every break out in the lot. For reasons you had yet to figure out, you could not stop thinking about him. Ivar... That entire night at his house and you analyzed, picking apart every moment. The way he looked at you, the mocking way he spoke, how he grabbed your wrist. It hadn’t hurt, but it was shocking. The one detail that stuck out the most, and the feeling that you couldn’t shake, was how even in a room with others, you felt him. Some pull or draw of your attention. Some dread or distraction. It was strange and by Friday, without seeing him at school, it wasn’t relief you felt, it was melancholy.

The girls noticed and chalked it up to PMS so you all decided to skip going home and headed straight for the mall. That was uninteresting and after a couple of hours of wandering shops, trying on rings at the kiosks, and hitting up the food court, you headed to HUBB City Movie Theatre to catch a flick.

Standing in line it was Kim who spotted them first.

“Heads up,” she spoke quietly, nudging your arm.

Turning around, you spotted Mark waiving, a huge grin on his face, with both Ivar and Hvitserk standing behind. Your stomach flopped and you must have made a face as Amanda leaned in.

“Dude, are you okay?”

“Fine, yea, fine.”

“You looked like you’d seen a ghost.”

“Didn’t that Ivar guy freak you out a bit last weekend?” Kim asked.

“Ah, I don’t know. Yeah. Maybe. Maybe it was just me.”

“He is…. intense,” Kim added.

“My brother told me some guy at Oak Springs High owed the brothers money.” Amanda was using her ‘this was some juicy shit’ tone of voice, “and Ivar showed up, scared the crap out of him. Waived a gun around in the parking lot.”

“What!” you and Kim said at the same time.

Amanda arched her brows. “I don’t know...just telling you what I heard.”

A quiet settled over all of you and you casually glanced back at the guys. Mark and Hvitserk seemed to be discussing a poster on the wall but Ivar wasn’t even pretending not to look. Those haunting blue eyes were fixed right on you. It was a drastic change from last time and he seemed to be waiting, keeping track of how long it would take for you to acknowledge him. Unsure of how to act, you gave a quick half-smile before looking away.

“Too bad he’s a psycho,” Amanda whispered, “cause he’s fucking hot.”

You all burst out laughing and as you handed over your tickets and headed through the doors, you heard Mark call,

“Save us some seats, ladies.”

Great…… but fifteen minutes into the movie you figured they had decided on something else as it was just the three of you sitting in your usual seats; centre of the back row, directly beneath the booth streaming the film. Amanda was in the middle bitching about the cost of popcorn and you were feeling chilled in the large dark theatre, wishing you had headed home before the movie to get changed out of your uniform.

A commotion off to the side, followed by Mark’s not-so-quiet laugh made you all turn and look toward the isle on Kim’s side. Making their way down your row was Mark and Hvitserk; Mark shout-whispering that he thought you all were trying to hide by sitting up at the back. They must have been carrying $75 worth of snacks and you figured they had just gotten high.

Watching the entrance, you waited for Ivar to come through but he didn’t... He wasn’t there... Had he ditched, you wondered, feeling confused? Was it because of you? Were you disappointed? The moment brought back that anxious feeling of the previous weekend, the claws back in your tummy and you actually felt a little dissed. 

Oblivious to the film playing in front of you, it was the sound of clanging metal on your side of the theatre that made you turn and look. Shuffling toward you, down your row was Ivar, his crutch hitting against the metal feet of the chairs in front.

Fuck, you nearly gasped realizing he was planning to sit with you and you felt a rush of adrenaline. Tucking your hair behind your ear, you shifted in your seat unsure if you were nervous or excited. Had he really flashed a gun? No. Stupid. He couldn’t have. 

When he got close, his scent hit you like a memory and you recalled that subtle smell of aftershave in his bathroom. Unsure if you should say hello, you were let off the hook as his eyes looked everywhere but at you. Holding a massive drink in one hand and his crutch in the other, he stopped and awkwardly sat down.

You were struck by the subtle look of insecurity he had, guessing that without his badass car or his parentless mansion, he felt out of place. His discomfort made you panic alitte pushing you to say something.

“Hey,” you whispered, and he looked over as if surprised; his reaction making you smile. The smile was not returned but the look in his eyes removed all doubt of whether or not he was pleased to see you. He was. Ivar Lothbrok smiled. Almost shyly and you NEARLY DIED.

Turning back and trying to watch the film was ridiculous. There was no way you could absorb a thing with him sitting beside. Again, that expectant feeling hung in the air and you, like that first night, were hyper-aware of him; his movements, his arm slung on the rest of your chair, every time he shifted. And... he looked good...really good...downright wicked in fact and you glanced over to catch another look. The light was flickering against his smooth skin and pouty lips and you just wanted to see that smile again. Looking back to the screen, you attempted to pay attention.

Just as you began to absorb the words the actors were saying, he passed over his drink, his eyes staying fixed on the screen. Accepting it, you to took a sip from the straw and were not surprised to taste the sweet mix of some sort of pop and booze. The taste nearly made you cough and you passed it over.

With his hand, he pushed it back toward you making you frown. Did he think you drank every weekend? Was he trying to get you drunk?

Suddenly, he leaned in, bringing those lips close to the side of your head.

“Are you that much of a good girl?” he whispered and the reverberation of his voice made you shiver.

You turned to look but he didn’t pull back so your faces were close. Very close.

“I’m driving,” you whispered.

Rolling his eyes, he sat back in his chair and the impression you got was that he wouldn't be leaving you alone for long. It felt tense and you somehow thought getting his attention again might smooth out the static.

“I didn’t see you at my school this week.”

That drew him back. His head snapped over and he just looked at you. The scene changed in the movie and the light in the room brightened; his blue eyes were narrowed and you wondered what he was trying to figure out.

Without a word, his gaze lowered and you watched him rake his eyes over the open neck of your white blouse, your blue cardigan, and the skin of your thighs exposed above the hem of your kilt. With no one sitting in the row in front, you had put your feet up, tucking your toes into the seat. Suddenly, the bare skin of your legs felt elicit. Dropping your feet would have been too obvious so you hugged the folded blazer in your lap a little tighter.

Rolling his tongue in his cheek, you could see he was fighting the urge to smile and he leaned in again.

“Are you saying you missed me?”

Your stupid grin broke before you could think of what to say so as a distraction you reached down and grabbed his drink, taking another sip.

“Kiss me,” he said.

It wasn’t a question and you nearly choked.

“What?” you gawked.

Pulling back slightly, he eyed you, his expression was deadpan, almost daring you not to do as you were told. But, he did not wait long and brought his mouth right to yours, not pushing, just hovering close and you could feel him lick his lips. Fuck....was your last thought as you pressed your mouth to his.

Good lord was it ever gentle, not demanding and, and like that hunter in that song playing in his room that night, you sensed that he was holding back, drawing you closer.

That’s why when he broke the kiss first, there was a simper on his face, a smug look like he had just won. But, it was his large hand wrapping around your thigh that made you know it was only the beginning. He had it all wrong though. This was not something you did. You were a second base pro and that was only after a thousand texts, five hundred calls, and numerous dates out. You were not a fast girl from his world. Whatever that meant.

Glancing over at Amanda, her attention was fixed on the screen so you looked back at Ivar. Watching the film again, he jerked his chin, directing you to keep your eyes forward. Attempting to focus on the movie, you shifted your blazer on your lap to conceal his hold on your leg and he obviously took it as a green light. Slowly, he slid his palm further up, the tips of his fingers only stopping when they touched the fabric of your panties. God, this was crazy and you took a deep breath. Why were you playing along?

“Open your legs,” he glanced at you, speaking softly but it was still an order. “Do it.”  
Frowning you mouthed the word no but at the same time shifted your knees apart.

“Good girl,” he whispered and you were shocked at how that small praise shot straight between your legs. Adjusting on the seat, you slid your bum forward as if offering yourself up.

Pleased, he smirked and you tried to ignore it, acting as if you were unaware of what he was doing.

Within a second, his finger started stroking you through the thin layer of cotton, slow and steady as if biding time. Showing his experience, he pushed the fabric to the side, his finger pressing between your folds. Jesus Christ, it was insane and you should have stopped him there but didn’t… instead, you tilted your pelvis up wondering if that would please him. And it did evidenced by his quiet, breathy grunt and you weren't sure if it was his approval or the feel of his slow strokes that had you getting so wet.

Smoothly, expertly he found that little buried spot and strummed like a string, making you flinch and close your eyes, grabbing hold of his wrist. You didn’t push him away, just squeezed and despite not seeing him, you again felt him lean close.

The smell of his alcohol-laced breath fanned over your face making that tickle down there begin to throb. Your mouth fell open and you were aware that your own breath was picking up. It was obscene, if not a little embarrassing how wet you were and just how fast he was bringing you to the brink.

He strummed and strummed and you wondered what instruments he could play. Guitar…. yes definitely guitar and just that idea was sexy bringing you even closer.

“That’s it,” he coaxed, “Cum for me.”

You were nearly there. How was it possible?

“Look at me,” he demanded and you barely had the sense to turn your head, your eyes cracked only alittle.

“Fuck,” he hissed, staring at you. “I wanna eat your pussy.”

All at once, his finger pushed inside you as his lips hit yours, his tongue shoving right into your mouth. Overwhelmed, and feeling pinned by his jaw, his finger pushed harder and his palm pressed against your clit. The image of him between your legs, lapping your wetness was a recipe for magic and your orgasm crashed over you.

You came hard, harder than you ever had, pulsating around his finger, your stomach twitching and your body frozen in place. Any sounds you made; whimpers, gasps were absorbed by his mouth, breathing you in and bringing you through. It was suffocating and borderline aggressive but so fucking hot and you wondered if the setting, the people around made it that much more intense.

As the quaking eased and you came back to your senses, he pulled his mouth away, pecking you on the mouth and cheek, and chin.

Carefully, he pulled his hand out from under your kilt and you quickly glanced over at Amanda. Smiling at something up on the screen, she seemed lost in the story. Thank god. 

Seeing Ivar wipe his fingers on his jeans nearly made you cringe but he seemed unphased, adjusting the crotch of his jeans before grabbing his drink from you that you completely forgot you were holding.

“Are you a virgin?” he asked in a whisper, looking at you out of the corner of his eye. 

His brows were pinched together making you hesitate, sensing, there was no right answer to give?

“Ah,” be aloof, you thought, be aloof. “Not… exactly.”

“Not exactly?” he squinted.

“Technically,” you scrunched your face awkwardly. “I am not a virgin.”

Holding your gaze for a moment, he sniffled, signifying the topic was done. Scooping your hand in his, he linked his fingers between yours and leaned close, pecking your lips softly and so unexpectedly sweetly.

“I was right about you. You are a good girl,” he nodded and turned his attention back to the screen just as the credits started to roll.

Already? The dim lights came on and you felt on the spot, wondering how you would flounder through this next part. Letting go of your hand, he grabbed his crutches and without a second glance, pushed himself up and started down the aisle away from you.

Ummmmm. Hello? What was going on?

Toward the end of the row, he glanced back and called,

“I’ll text you in a bit.”

And then he was off. Your mouth literally fell open.

“Catch you, ladies, on Monday,” Mark hollered on the other side, already halfway to the door, hopefully oblivious to all that had just transpired.

\----

Once out of the theatre, you inhaled the fresh evening air, filling your lungs like you had never breathed before. You felt….lude having just spread your legs for some guy with your best friend in the next seat.

“Well,” Amanda, smacked her lips, sliding her blazer on, “That was special.”

And you knew she knew everything.

“What the hell was that?” she gawked as Kim joined, not saying anything but looking confused.

“God,” you covered your eyes, “I don’t know. I’m so sorry,” you looked at her, your shame spilling out onto the sidewalk.

“Who are you?” she frowned, “I’m so.. so…impressed right now.” Tipping her head back, she let out her best cackle. “For once I’m not the only one hooking up with randos on the weekend,” she laughed again.

She wasn’t quite that bad but next to her, you were Mother Theresa.

“Okay, who is hooking up with who?” Kim raised her hands, motioning that she needed to catch up.

“Did you see everything?” you asked, holding your breath.

“No...I actually saw nothing but I knew what was going on. Wait, do you like him? What don’t we know? Are you…like…with him now?”

“No!” you replied exasperated. “I don’t even know him.”

“Okay, who are we talking about?” Kim cut it, totally frustrated.

“Ivar!” you and Amanda answered in unison

“Whaaaa...” Kim said under her breath, really drawing it out. “That guy is bad news.”

“I know. I know,” you repeated trying to convince them…. and yourself. 

“Oh god, you like him,” Amanda squinted as if noticing something she hadn’t seen before. “Yep,” she nodded, “you do.”

“Do you like him?” Kim asked, not believing it.

“I don’t know,” is all you could say.

Taking a cigarette out, Amanda lit it and you and Kim, as usual, took a step back to get clear of the smoke.

“So,” she took a drag, “what message do you think it sends a guy, you aren’t sure you even like, when you let him finger you in a movie theatre?”

“Amanda!” Kim scolded but you all started to laugh.

“That no means sometimes...” you shrugged.

“What?” they said at the same time.

“Did he force you?” Kim asked, her face immediately concerned.

“No!” you threw up your hands. “No!” Wait, did he, you wondered for a second, quickly pushing it out of your head. “No, he didn’t. Let’s…let’s just go.”

Linking arms, the three of you walked in a line, heading back to your car. For numerous reasons, your head felt disconnected from your body.

\-----

That night, lying in your bed, you looked at your phone but all was quiet. How stupid, you thought, he hadn’t even asked for your number. Scoffing in the dark, you pretended, unconvincingly, that you were not waiting for his text. Nothing was wrong. You were just bored, maybe a little lonely rebounding from your ex-jock boyfriend. Sighing, you flipped from your back onto your side, thinking how it had taken your ex an entire summer to get where Ivar had in one night.

Your phone chimed and you jumped, nearly knocking over your lamp to grab it.

It was Amanda…….

AMANDA: Call me if you need me. Love you.

You felt like an idiot.


	3. Chapter 3

The rest of the weekend was quiet and you spent it at home, declining invitations to meet up with friends. Instead, you studied, baked banana bread, and overall did as many wholesome things as you could to restore moral balance after your movie theatre shenanigans.

In truth, you felt a little sick over it, like you had been duped but what would you have even said to Ivar if he had called anyway? Thanks for the rub? Nope.

It was rare those days that your mom and dad were both home at the same time, or at all, as each traveled so much for work and you were pleased to have a family supper that Sunday night and pretend that you were still a kid.

Of course, the events of your Friday night did not leave your mind and you found yourself zoning out, remembering how Ivar had looked at the theatre and how he smelled, and what his mouth felt like on yours. God, his tongue had been inside your mouth as if wanting to taste your orgasm. More than once you had thought about his words, the part where he said “he knew that you were a good girl.” How exactly did he know that? And if you were good, what was bad?

By Monday the entire event seemed less vivid and it was easier not to think about. But walking out of the school at lunch and seeing that black Camaro brought back that same rush of uncertainty. Was he there for you? Of course, he was, you almost rolled your eyes at yourself. He was parked right beside your car instead of his usual spot across the lot. God, you felt anxious but weren’t you also a little relieved? Shit... and where were Kim and Amanda? You needed them. As if they heard, your phone chimed but looking at your screen it was not a number you recognized. 

: Are you going to stand there all day?

It was Ivar. Obviously. He apparently had your number after all.

Walking toward him, you were acutely aware that he was watching your every move. You could feel those cold blue eyes and because of the small size of your hands, when you got to the car, you struggled to open his car door with its stiff classic car handle. It was impossible to miss how he rolled his eyes when he leaned over to help open it from the inside. You felt stupid and awkward and by the look of him, you were already on his nerves.

“Hi,” you said meekly as you slid down into the seat.

Not saying anything back, he glanced over but continued to stare out the front window watching kids head to their cars.

It was quiet and felt strained and just… nope…. you weren’t doing it; his attitude, his sighs, and rolling eyes. Forget it. You had some self-respect and weren’t going to be ignored while sitting in his car.

“So, I was thinking... the other night,” you started and he glanced at you again, his face unreadable but the frown he often wore was there. “It was kinda crazy and I just don’t want to...”

“To what?” he snapped.

Hesitating you waited in case he was going to say more but when he didn’t you licked your lips and his bright blue eyes flicked down to catch that subtle movement. “So... I was saying,” you continued and he locked eyes with you again, “I don’t want you to think that you’ve got to follow up or, I don’t know, take me out...”

“You don’t want me here?” he cut you off again, his eyes were narrowed at you, assessing.

Oh no, you had not given enough thought to what you were trying to say. You had obviously insulted him.

“No, no,” you repeated, reaching over and putting your hand on his arm, his leather coat feeling soft. “I only meant...”

“Meant what?” his eyes narrowed further and he made a face like you had just blown salt at him.

“I’m sorry,” you apologized, shaking your head. “I’m bad at this. I only meant it feels backward, doing something so... intimate and then seeing each other and trying to... I don’t know...” you shrugged, sounding defeated.

Leaning over the console between your seats, he smirked. “Kiss me then.”

“What?” you couldn’t help but smile at his instant change in mood and you leaned back slightly to better look into his blue eyes. God, were they ever electric.

“If you’re not sure what to say, just kiss me. Everything else will come.”

Your enormous grin forced him to smile and you did, you kissed him. His hand came up and held the side of your face and it felt so amazing you sighed. You actually sighed. God, was this happening?

Pulling his lips away, he looked at you and his expression was serious but you could feel that his entire demeanor had softened. He was less on guard.

“Are you hungry? Wanna grab food?” he asked.

“Last block was home-ec; I ate everything in sight but I’ll go wherever you want so you can eat.”

Nodding, he straightened and turned the ignition; the engine firing up with a roar.

Less than five minutes on the road and you could tell where he was taking you. Driving through the gates, the impressive Tudor house came into view and he parked right in front, not saying a word as he got out and headed in, his crutch making a soft clicking sound as you trailed behind.

Inside, no one was around but you heard a TV or radio in the distance perhaps from the kitchen or that family room.

Down the hallway and into his room, you stood in the center looking around as he balanced his crutch against a hip and took off his leather coat, tossing it onto the loveseat. Flipping on music, he looked over at you and sat down on the end of his neatly made bed. You were dragging out the moment and when your eyes met his eyes, you knew, that he knew you were stalling. 

“You said you weren’t afraid of me.”

“I’m just trying to get a sense…. I don’t actually know you.”

Tipping his head to one side, he looked at you. Really looked, seeming to simultaneously analyze your appearance, your meaning, your reasons for coming, why you had let him do all those things to you. You didn’t actually know what he was thinking but that’s what it felt like. Regardless, it was clear, he held the power in the room.

“Come here,” he nodded to the bed beside him, his eyes not giving away his thoughts.

Clearing your throat, you made your way over, slowly sitting down, your hands running over your thighs to smooth out your skirt. Turning his head, he continued to look and you glanced up nervously.

“I know something about you,” he crooned, his expression a little more playful.

“What?”

“I know you are smart. Top of your class. I know you don’t go anywhere without those two chicks. I also know you dated some rugby player from Reynolds.”

“How do you know all that?” you asked your body picking up that static in the air that tended to play between you.

“Mark,” he answered matter-of-factly.

“I see,” you shifted on the bed, feeling squirmy. “I’m at a disadvantage then. I know nothing about you. Other than you have two brothers.”

“Three.”

“And that you go to Clairmont,”

“I don’t…I do school online.”

“Oh. I know that you are a good kisser,” you peeked up at him seeing how your comment brightened his face. “But that’s it.”

You weren’t sure why you couldn’t hold his eye contact but it was then that his fingers brushed back the hair hanging over your shoulder, and you stayed frozen as he pulled the collar of your white blouse aside. Slowly he leaned in closer and closer, his face reaching the crook of your neck and he pressed a kiss just below your ear. Ahhhhhh, you nearly melted as his lips continued lightly across your throat, gently sucking your skin into his mouth, making your body shiver. But you didn’t move…..

Pulling back, he looked at you and then sighed loudly.

“You’re so tense,” he breathed out. “Fine! What would you like to know?”

“Pardon?”

“You feel like you don’t know me. So… ask.” He lifted his eyebrows and shook his head like what he was saying was obvious. “I never lie.”

“Ohh-kay,” you said cautiously feeling unsure of where to start but not wanting this window to close.

“Where are your parents?” you started with the basics.

“My father is never around. Overseas working and my mom died two years ago.”

Okay, that was NOT where to start. “I’m sorry,” you turned your head and looked at him.

Swatting the air as if to move on, he gawked, impatient for you to continue.

“What do you want to do after school?”

“I don’t know.”

“Who was your last girlfriend?”

“Skip.”

“Wait you said...”

“I didn’t lie,” he cut you off. “I said skip.”

“Ohh-kay,” you replied, thinking quietly for a moment and you could tell this game was nearly done. “Do you deal drugs?”

He actually flinched and flared his nostrils, and you kept your eyes on him watching his reaction. Glancing around the room, he seemed to be steadying himself obviously hating this game.

“Weed,” he said almost bitterly. “I don’t deal drugs,” he mimicked some voice as if it was yours. “I sell weed. Nothing more than that.”

“Why?”

His head snapped over to look at you again and you could tell he was trying not to glare. God, he was not an open person.

“For the money,” you smiled, indicating you were joking, trying to lighten the mood.

“I started smoking it a couple of years ago. I went through a bad time after my mom passed. My legs were pretty bad,” he glanced over, “I have a disorder that I was on a lot of pain meds for and then the Drs gave me more shit because I was messed up over my mom. My dad basically ditched and I was not doing well. I had to quit all that shit. I knew I was heading toward a point that you can't come back from. So,” he shrugged, “I dropped the pills. Quit everything and just smoked weed.”

You were silent for a moment. “I see,” you said and it felt like the safest response.

“I started buying it in big qualities. Didn’t want to deal with small-time sellers. Didn’t know where their shit came from or what was in it. Just started selling a bit here and there and pretty quickly it paid for it. And then some.”

“Were you selling to other people who were in pain? Instead of them taking, like, pharmaceuticals?”

“Fuck no,” he scoffed. “Anyone with cash.” He rolled his eyes but it turned into a smile. “I’m done with your questions.”

With one hand, he pushed you abruptly back onto the bed.

“Ivar,” you gasped as he quickly scooped an arm around your waist and yanked you up until you were both laying on the pillows.

Meekly, you tried to resist, but he called bullshit and held your free hand back before pulling you against him and kissing you. His lips felt good, his tongue working its way into your mouth, his knee pushing between your legs. He knew exactly what he was doing pressing his thigh up against your crotch, his hand squeezing your ass, and running down the backs of your thighs.

You were going to stop him. You were. Just a few seconds more of his hot mouth, his amazing taste, and smell that flooded your head warming your body right down to your center. Oh god and the sounds he made. Small grunts like the more he kissed and touched you, the more he realized he wanted.

In one swift movement, he rolled on top, leaning on his elbows, his kisses becoming borderline rough. It was the bulge in his pants grinding against you, your hips rolling up against him that felt way too much. Way, way too much.

“Ivar,” you pulled your mouth back but he simply diverted, sucking on the side of your throat, one of his hands magically arriving at your cleavage and beginning to work on the buttons of your school shirt.

“Ivar, stop,” you said a little louder.

“What?” he asked, glancing up, managing to open two more bottoms with the flick of his fingers. How was he so good at that? Instantly, his hand was inside, squeezing and groping your breasts through your bra.

“This is too fast,” you muttered.

“Not for me,” he puffed, working his mouth back up to yours.

“Ivar, stop,” you turned your chin enough to escape him.

Letting out a resigned sigh, he tilted his head back to better focus on you.

“I don’t even know what is happening between us?” you continued sounding...well... a bit whiny.

“Don’t be childish,” he dismissed.

“I just want.... to take it slow. This is all new.”

“New?” his eyes flashed. “Not for me. I have wanted you since last the summer.”

What, you thought?! Last summer? Seven months ago? This was bewildering, you just met him. 

“I just fucking knew when I saw you,” his face grew serious, and he reached up, brushing your hair back from the side of your face.

“Knew what?”

“I just knew.”

Woah, this was overwhelming. His blue eyes were searching yours and you then understood how sincere he was being and how excoriating it was for him to be like that.

“Can I just... have a minute?”

“No,” he frowned but his features softened and he leaned down and kissed you again. It was a soft kiss, a beautiful kiss, his gorgeous lips pressing against yours, holding still as if pouring out the feeling behind what he had just shared. Dropping his head into the crook of your neck, his arms tightened around you.

“Don’t push me away, okay,” he whispered and you heard the anxiety in his voice.

It melted your heart and gave you some insight as to why he was such a weirdo. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you embraced him back.

“Why are you so.... cool with me sometimes. You’re unsure?”

Shrugging, he lifted back up to see your face but looked away, and you realized he was embarrassed.

“I don’t wanna freak you out. I can be…. a lot.”

No shit!  
“Enough of your yapping,’’ he looked back and you could tell the subject had been changed.

“Ivar!” you gasped as his hand shot up your kilt, grabbing the waistband of your blue underwear.

Squirming, you latched onto his wrists to stop him but he clucked his tongue as if you were the one being naughty.

“These can fuck off,” he said yanking your underwear down your legs, slipping them off, along with your black shoes, and tossing everything onto the floor.

Narrowing his eyes at you, he looked wicked and smug and so incredibly sexy and you found yourself just watching, seeing what he’d do. Kissing you one more time, he moved down your body, nestling between your legs, and attempted to push up your kilt. Mouthing the word ‘noooo,’ your hands shot down to hold it against you.

“Move your hands!” he ordered.

“No, wait, this is crazy.”

“Move your hands or I swear to god,” he glared as if insane but it morphed into a grin. “Move your hands!” he barked, this time actually looking a little annoyed.

So, fuck it, you did. You moved your hands and he flipped up your kilt.

Oh god.

Even as your self conscientiousness began to burn, your bare box a mere five inches from his face, the glee that came over him made you laugh. But within a second, some darkness moved behind his blazing eyes and he just stared down at your pussy. Grabbing the back of your thigh, he bent your knee up, opening your legs wider. 

Oh god.

“Can we close the blinds or something? It's so bright in...”

“Shush,” he quieted you not looking up. “I want to see what I’m doing.”

Oh god.

With his free hand, he carefully spread the lips of your pussy, and you looked up to the ceiling, your cheeks hot, unable to watch. It was so weird, your legs instinctively tried to close but he clucked again, pulling them back open.

“Don’t hide from me. Ever,” he whispered and you glanced down just as he looked up at you. “Plus, you said you would go anywhere so I could eat,” he grinned wildly, looking handsome, like a total deviant.

You jumped when his fingers touched you a second time, his fierce eyes watching your face as he began running his thumb over your clit. Fucking hell, it was intense and you had never had a guy just hang out down there, staring at the details of your body. His mouth fell open alittle and you watched curiously as he spread your lips even further, rubbing that same spot that you knew was starting to swell under his soft strokes.

“Do you know how fucking perfect you are?” he asked, glancing up again, his expression looking somehow pained. “Do you like that?” he kept staring at you, observing your reaction, his thumb gliding over and over. It felt amazing and by the way his head tilted to the side, gazing at your pussy and swearing under his breath, you knew he appreciated how wet you were getting.

“Fuck!” he rushed out loudly, “I could barely sleep last night. I was thinking about you. About kissing you. Everything at the movies. How wet your pussy was. Fuck!” he swore again. “Like it is now.”

His thumb pressed harder, and your stomach flinched making him laugh but he quickly grew serious and without breaking your gaze, he lowered his face, extending his unnaturally long tongue and swiped up the center of your folds. Jesus, it felt good and you glanced at his door noticing there was no lock. Steadily, his fingers spread you further apart, so wide it almost hurt and he grunted, sounding very pleased, his tongue descending again and licking you, lapping you, feeling warm, circling your clit. Within a few seconds, your hips began to gently rock and your breathing became shaky.

Time was obviously not of the essence as he took his time swapping back and forth between tasting you and running his thumb over your slit and each time you twitched or shuddered, those menacing eyes were back on you, studying your reaction, seeing what made you moan.

“Please,” you heard yourself whimper and it made him chuckle.

“Please what?” he asked, clearly loving it.

“Please,” you whined as his thumb and his intermittent licks began to drive you mad. Your pussy was wide open and needing more.

“You will have to be more specific, beautiful.”

“Please,” you tipped your chin down and looked directly at him. “Make me cum, Ivar, please,” you added the ‘please’ just to make him happy and his eyes flashed.

With that his mouth dropped down to your flesh, sucking your soft layers and clit right into his mouth. He was devouring you and it was raw and wild and the carnal sounds he was making made you imagine him as some beast. The climb to your finish was fast and powerful and when you finally came, all inhibitions were gone, you bucked your pelvis and grabbed his perfect hair, grinding your cunt up against his mouth, incoherently crying out. It was messed up and you had never once felt anything like it before.

“You are so beautiful, baby,” he murmured, kissing the inside of your skin and running the palm of his hand up and down the inside of your thigh. “You are so fucking beautiful. I have wanted this for so long,” he spoke against your skin as you came down from your climax.

As you untensed and simmered, he slid back up beside you, his hand snaking inside your blouse and grabbing your boob.

“You almost made me blow in pants,” he smiled and you just gazed at him, blissed-out, taking in how dreamy he looked.

“Oh shit!” you said, lifting your head, your eyes trying to find a clock.

“What time...”

“Relax,” he tightened his hold on you. “We’ll leave in 15 minutes. Plenty of time.”

Resting your head back down, you closed your eyes loving how much larger his body was than yours and how it felt to be in his arms.

“Plenty of time for what?” you asked, opening your eyes again.

“I’m not done.”

Oh god.

Sitting up, he grabbed you, roughly flipping you onto your tummy, his body quickly covered yours and pressing you down into the bed. It was so fast and you were confused but still too spaced out to speak. Pushing your legs apart, he shifted his weight to one side and flipped up your kilt uncovering your naked ass.

“What....” you rushed out, feeling too exposed. Your bottom, the back of your you-know-what, everything just out in the open.

“Stop fighting me,” he pressed his mouth to your ear. “You have a perfect ass, by the way.”

Fidgeting you realized he was opening and pulling down his pants and panic shot through you.

“Ivar, I can’t...”

“Shush, I’m not going to have sex with you. Relax.”

What was he doing, your mind started to reel? Was he lying? Was he going to try? If you were being honest, part of you wondered if maybe you’d let him. It was crazy.

You jumped, sucking in air when his hand touched the back of your pussy, his fingers rubbing between your lips and around your entrance. As the tips of his fingers dipped inside, the sounds of his approval fired back up. Bracing for it, you were thrown off when his finger didn’t push inside but instead traveled up the crack of your ass, circling around your asshole. Your eyes bugged out at the odd sensation and it hit you what he was doing; he was using your own slick to lube you up. But for what?  
“What are you doing?”

Ignoring you he lowered himself back down, his weight feeling heavy, and you felt his hard bare cock land right in the crease of your ass. His elbows settled on either side of you, boxing you in, and just as you were about to tell him to get off, his face and chin burrowed back into the side of your neck. Slowly, he rolled his hips forward, his cock sliding between your cheeks, slippery and hard and feeling so unexpected. Pulling his hips back, he rutted again and his strained breathing showed you he loving it. It was different and hot and the sound of his panting in your ear was such a turn on. Not to mention his intimidatingly large rock-hard dick, touching the back of your entrance.

“All that panic for nothing,” he grunted and you could tell he was smiling. “I just needed to feel your perfect ass.”

It felt good. It felt surprisingly good and without thought you pushed your bum up toward him, immediately making his hiss.

“That’s it, my beautiful girl,” he grunted in your ear, pumping against your behind even harder. “Your little body knows exactly what to do, doesn’t it? Fuck!” he swore as his pace picked up.

Leaning on one arm, he snaked his hand under your tummy, finding your crotch, pulling you up toward him so your butt was at a better angle. Spreading your own legs a little wider, you dug your knees into the bed, arching your back even more. He fucking loved it and made you cry out when his fingers connected with your overly sensitive clit.

“Do you know how badly I want to fuck you? Hmmm? Put my dick inside you. Your beautiful little hole?”

He was moving faster and faster, it was so slippery and wet and you felt filthy because of how much you wanted him, wishing it might just slip and jab you.

“But I’m not going to rush you. I can wait,” he kissed the side of your head, his fingers rubbing your front which was a dripping mess at this point, your own hips moving in time. Everything began to feel funny and you realized you had never, not even once, had two orgasms in a row.

“You’re so wet,” he groaned as his hips moved faster and his fingers pressed harder. His breath grew even more ragged in your ear and everything began to distort. You couldn’t tell how long you’d been under him, grinding, panting, bucking up against him, and starting to whine his name. The air felt thick and your skin felt hot and you wished you were naked instead of your kilt being bunched around you. His arm was securely under you, his fingers slipping relentlessly over your clit, his cock sliding over the back of your pushed up ass. It was all too much and, in that blur, your second organism rolled, rocking you hard and stretching on so long you weren’t clear if it was still going or you were just that sensitive. You couldn’t breathe or think or move and or even make a sound. It was Ivar, crying out into the air above you that drew you back, his hips stuttering against you hard, and then you felt it, a warm pool of cum at the top of your crack.

His body went slack and he flopped down, half on and half beside, his leg and arm still wrapped around you. Catching his breath, he brushed the hair that was sticking to your tacky forehead away to uncover your eyes and pressed a breathy kiss to your lips. You didn’t open your eyes but felt him snuggle in, your faces very close and you guessed he was looking at you.

“I want you to be that person in my life… who….” his voice dropped off as if unable to finish what he wanted to say and you thought you heard him whisper your name. “God,” he continued. “I just want to be with you. So badly.”

Woah……  
\----

Not once on the short ride back to school did he let go of your hand, even bringing it to his mouth and kissing the back a couple of times. If you had any mental capacity left after your two earth-shattering orgasms and his heart breaking-ly sweet admission, you would have realized that you were in shock. Was it good or bad? It was hard to tell but he was swooning over you, smitten with an entirely different warmth in his eyes.

Kissing him goodbye and swinging the door closed, you walked toward the side entrance of the school, wondering if it was possible to bruise a tail bone and seeing your two best friends, waiting. By their expressions, it was clear they wanted to talk.

Great, you thought, you had to tell them that, like it or not, Ivar Lothbrok was your boyfriend now. And despite your hesitations, you did, you liked it very much.


	4. Chapter 4

For months your life ran more or less in the same way, that black Camaro like a waiting chariot, always ready to whisk you off.

Friday and Saturday nights were spent driving around, going to the movies or the mall, hand in hand with your gorgeous boyfriend, always ending up in his room to fool around. Occasionally, very occasionally, he’d give you a night off so you could stay at home and study.

Lunches were spent in much of the same way; in Ivar’s bed with most of your clothes on the floor. Kissing, cuddling, touching and tasting and... well...sucking. He had been true to his word, though, and despite the amount of time spent between your legs, you had not yet done the deed. In a way, it surprised you as he was so demanding for affection and you had done pretty much everything else. Made you wonder if he had his own hang-ups but some topics with him were off-limits.

It took some time but your friends were finally resigned to the fact that you were never around. Amanda going as far as to call you the person she used to know. They weren’t upset really but you couldn’t say they were thrilled with your all-consuming relationship. And it was all-consuming. You were in la-la land and when you weren’t with him, you were thinking about him; his cutting blue eyes, his gorgeous face, and wicked, sexy body. You had done things with him you hadn’t even known about so it was hard to imagine, once you did start having sex, how much needier he’d become. How much more he’d want you close. In reality, he craved you, and getting time on your own resulted in what you referred to as an ‘Ivar pout-a-thon.’ It was cute and if asked he would deny it, obviously.

At times it was difficult to understand his upset, his constant need to know where you were, who you were with and why. Yes, why was a big one for Ivar. Why did you need to do other things? Why did you need time alone? Oh, and why did you need to study at the library as he had a perfectly good desk in his room?

Love was new to him, like it was to you, and he just handled it differently. It was sweet though and you simply ignored Amanda’s jokes, when walking class to class, that you better text him and let him know you were on the move. Yes, on the outside, it would seem intense but Ivar was intense. Moody and brooding, in a constant state of internal struggle until you were there. You seemed to make everything better and with you, he seemed free; sweet and smiling, overwhelmingly affectionate, so incredibly loving, kissing, even in public, any part of your skin that showed. Always, always, always holding your hand. He called you his baby, his princess, bought you so many cute things, and kept a picture of you up in his car. Even texted in the morning to ask what he should bring you that day for lunch. And you were truly lucky as some boyfriends weren’t communicators. Not your Ivar; his messages were non-stop and he loved to talk on the phone at night too, always saying “just a few minutes more” until you were both half asleep and mumbling. He was beyond adorable, totally devoted and you felt cherished.

Ivar Lothbrok was the best boyfriend ever.

\----

On that day, pulling out of school, he did not make the normal right hand turn to head to his place but drove straight and eventually into Maxwell Park. The flat-black Camaro roared on, hugging the winding road all the way up to the lookout, Ivar, as usual, holding your hand.

Killing the engine, he tilted his steering wheel up before releasing and sliding his seat back as far as it would go. Once reclined, he extended his arms out to you and you climbed over the console to lie on him. It took a moment to shift and settle so your weight wasn’t on his legs but then you snuggled in, eliciting from him the world’s loudest sigh.

“Why are we here?” you asked knowing by the strength of his hug and the deep crease between his eyebrows that his thoughts were heavier than normal.

“Where’s my boob?” was his response and you automatically unbuttoned you’re blouse enough for him to reach in and rest his hand where he liked to keep it.

The silence continued and you knew you couldn’t ask again so you waited and while doing so enjoyed the feel of your cheek on his broad chest and the smell of his neck; that perfect mix of aftershave and leather. Ahhh, his strong arms were wrapped around you and his lips were pressed to the top of your head. God, you loved having such a tall boyfriend and as attached as he was to you, you were a total leech.

But... it did feel strange that you were there, alone, so close and he wasn’t trying to grope you or kiss you or reach up your kilt. It made you feel a little insecure, in fact.

“I dated a girl last year for a bit,” he kissed your hair, taking his time, and you wondered where it was going. “Some chick that always hung out with my brothers and their girlfriends so... it seemed like it made sense. She was good-looking and stuff but, I don’t know... the whole time...it just didn’t feel like I thought it should. And she was my first. That’s supposed to make you feel something…like... how it feels with you,” he squeezed you tighter. “My brothers couldn’t understand why I broke it off but I know now that this is how it’s supposed to feel. Like it does with us. I would do anything for you. Anything. I love you so fucking much it hurts. And when we’re not together, it's like....it’s like...I can‘t....”

“Breathe?”

“Yes,” he exhaled loudly. “See baby, you know. You feel the same,” he kissed the top of your head again. “Don’t you?”

“Yes,” you whispered back, hugging him tighter not entirely sure you did; however, you did understand that’s how it felt for him, so…pretty much the same thing.

There was no question that you were in love! So much, but, if you were being honest, there was a small part of you, just a tiny part, you purposefully held back. It felt like the only way to keep a little power and not get swallowed up entirely. You still loved him though. Head over heels.

Tipping your head up, you looked at him and his eyes were shining with what looked like the start of tears and his expression was vulnerable and heart-stoppingly handsome.

Clearing his throat a few times, he looked down at the console between the seats.

“I wanna give you something.”

Popping open the compartment, he grabbed a small burgundy velvet box and you pushed yourself up from his chest to better see. It felt important.

Opening it, he held it up and showed you a locket inside. It was large and silver with a long silver chain and from the patina around its edges, you knew it was an antique. The entire thing was gorgeous.

“It was my mother’s,” he said quietly, watching your face as you picked it up, holding it carefully. “She always wore it.... even when things turned to shit with my dad. It was like...a symbol of her promise to him,” he shook his head as if just thinking about it was painful. “She wore it right up until the end like they might find their way back to each other.”

For a moment, he was silent but you could tell he wasn’t done.

“Baby,” he grabbed your free hand in his large one. “Let’s promise to never get lost in the first place? I want us to be together always. Hmm?”

It was hard to speak. You weren’t sure what to say but nodded your head, the gravity of his gift and his beautiful words filtering through, making your own tears rise in your eyes. 

“Let me put it on you,” he whispered and took it out of your hand, spreading the chain to drape over your head. The chain was long and the pendant sat low on your chest, right between your breasts and you loved that it was so close to your heart.

“Ivar,” you picked up the locket again, running your thumb over the intricate, oval surface. “It's so beautiful. So special. Are you sure you want me to have it?” You glanced up. “It means so much to you.”

Shit.  
Shifting his jaw around, you watched his face tighten and his mood begin to sink. 

Shit. Shit. Shit.  
“I wouldn’t be giving it to you if I wasn’t sure,” he spoke in a low, slow voice, stressing each word. “Would I?” His nostrils flared and you could see in his eyes that he was hurt.

SHIT!!!  
“I’m sorry,” you rushed, “that’s not what I meant. I’m sorry.” Immediately you leaned forward and kissed and kissed him, not pulling your lips away from his until you felt his body begin to ease and let you back in. “I’m sorry,” you whispered again, hugging him harder. “I love it so much and I love you. It’s the most beautiful thing anyone has ever given me. I’ll never take it off. Never.”

As if returning to the moment, he adjusted in the seat and cleared his throat, his eyes focusing on yours again. And thank god, some of the brightness from before was returning to his expression. Brushing your bangs away from the side of your face, he kissed you softly, so perfectly and with so much feeling, before pulling back and gazing into your eyes. There were instances like that, fragments in time, even after kissing you likely a thousand times, that he still looked blown away by you. Blown away that you were there and his and looking back at him with love in your eyes.

“My mother was the most beautiful and most important person in my life. Now you are. Of course, you should wear it. It is my gift to you.”

“Thank you,” you smiled unable to look away from his beautiful, sincere blue eyes. “I love it,” you whispered.

“And I love you,” he whispered back. “Forever.”

The ride back to school, holding Ivar’s free hand did not seem close enough and so you leaned over and rested your head on his shoulder. It was then that you decided that you would call him later that night and tell him you were ready to take the next step. The ‘point of no return’ you had heard it called in some psychology book or.... somewhere. In your heart of hearts, you knew that he was the one and felt that there wasn’t anything you didn’t want to share with him.

“What baby?” he asked, side glancing down at your smiling face.

“I’m just happy.”

Kissing your forehead, he mumbled that he was too.

In truth, you were also laughing at the fleeting thought of telling him right then that you wanted to have sex but Ivar was a walking hard-on! You’d never make it back to school. Instead, you decided to wait and tell him before bed on the phone. He was going to be thrilled.  
Yes, everything had fallen into place. You were weeks away from graduation, you had met the love of your life and the future felt full of possibilities. Nothing could slow you down.

\---- 

As expected, Ivar had responded enthusiastically to the news, so much so, you spent 15 minutes pleading with him not to try and sneak into your room. So, in the morning, as you dressed for school, it was a bit ridiculous that you took extra care selecting a pretty bra and panties to wear, knowing that they would last about 3.5 seconds on your body after entering his room. Some days, he couldn’t even wait to get home and made you take off your underwear while still en route. He loved stuff like that, evidenced by his nightstand full of your drawers.

So, at lunch that day, you were surprised when climbing into your waiting chariot that your gorgeous boyfriend looked rather serious and had two subway sandwiches sitting in a bag between the seats.

“We’ll eat here,” was all he said as he passed you your favourite veggie sub loaded with extra olives and pickles. Roast beef for him, of course.

You ate in silence and by the way he didn’t look over at you, you knew he was upset about something. In your head, you ran through your phone conversation from the previous night, analyzing what you could have said wrong, but your attention was pulled back when he started the car.

“We’re going home now?” you asked, trying to keep your anxiousness out of your voice.

He didn’t answer.

“Ivar?”

“Reynolds,” was all he said.

“Pardon?

“Reynolds,” he said again and pulled the Camaro out onto the road.

“Reynolds High? Why? Are you selling something to someone?”

When he didn’t answer, you reached over and squeezed his arm but he pulled it away and you were stunned.  
“Ivar?” you mewed, sounding baffled.

“I want you to point out that guy you dated. The one you slept with.”

What the fuck.  
“Why?” You straightened in your seat, confused but it was mostly dread that came over you. “Why?” you asked again, a little louder.

He still didn’t answer and it was not helping your nerves.

“Ivar!”  
Inhaling loudly, he blew air out his nose as if barely coping.

“After we got off the phone last night, I was so fucking happy about today. But then....” he shook his head keeping his eyes on the road, “I couldn’t stop myself from thinking about the fact that you had done it already with someone else. It made me sick.”

Oh no.  
“Why do you want to know who Adam is? “

“Adam!” he exclaimed, his voice shooting high. “Adam?” he glared over at you, repeating the name like it was poison in his mouth.

“Ivar stop,” you whined. “You knew that I was with someone before. God, it was nothing even close to what we have. Not even close.”

Stewing, he just kept staring ahead, his face frozen in the most miserable, disgusted look.

“Babe, pull over, please, so we can talk,” you were using your gentlest voice attempting to coax him down but he ignored you. “Okay, at least tell me what you are going to do once we get there.”

Still nothing.

“Ivar!” you shouted. “What are you going to do?”

“Nothing,” he sneered. “I just want to see him. Know who he is……and I want you to tell me everything you did with him. Every detail,” he looked over again, shooting you some look as if you better not even think about lying.

“What? No!” you were dumbfounded but knew he was serious. “Ivar, it was over before I met you. None of that matters. I love you so much, Ivar.”

“It does matter!” he sneered again. “As long as I don’t know the details, it’s like a secret that the two of you share. My girlfriend is not going to keep secrets with other dudes,” his voice was dramatic as if he was talking about hundreds of other guys. “It’s enough that you’ve been fucked before.”

Woah. You felt punched in the chest. In the stomach. You felt attacked like he was shaming you and despite understanding it was all coming from his insecurities, it felt like a knife in the heart.

“Ivar?” you pleaded softly. “Please babe. This is crazy.”

“Crazy? You think I’m crazy?” he chuckled, glancing over, his laugh sounding awful and his eyes looking strange. “As far as I’m concerned, you are the only girl I’ve ever been with.

Ummm….  
“Ohh-kay...,” you replied cautiously, “but that’s not actually true…. is it?”

“Tell me!” he shouted again. “What did he do to you?”

“Please stop the car. I want to get out.”

This was insane.

“Fucking tell me!” he kept at you.

“Fine!” you gave in, just wanting it to end. “You tell me first then,” you yelled. “What did you do with that girl before me? The one who was good-looking and stuff,” you mimicked him sarcastically. 

“Barely anything,” he scoffed as if it was absolutely absurd that you were even asking. “She was a lump. Something that was just…. there. A body that followed me around all the time. I couldn’t cum with her either!” he announced as if that explained everything. “That’s how in-love I am with you. You make me blow my load so fast and we haven’t even had sex yet,” he shot you a sharp eye. “Your turn.”  
Watching his demented expression and listening to his bullshit, you were floored. He was totally unable to see the situation from any perspective but his own twisted one. You were horrified…. possibly a little jealous and, maybe even a bit proud. It was true, you could make him finish quickly. Sidelining the thought, you just wished the hurricane storming inside of him would head out to sea. 

“Tell me,” he snarled, “and then it will be over and we won’t ever talk about it again.”

That seemed unlikely, you thought.  
“You’re the one dragging it out,” he added.

“Fine, I hung out with him for eight or nine months before anything happened. We started dating and fooled around a bit and then, well, we tried it,” you threw up your hands in defeat. “I can’t believe you.”

“Why did it end?”

“I just didn’t have those feelings for him. I just wanted to be friends.”

“How many times did you sleep with him?”

“Only a couple of times. I wasn’t... I don’t know... I wasn’t turned on. That’s it, okay?”

Apparently, it was not okay.  
“Did he cum in you?”

“What!”

“Did he cum in you!” Ivar shouted.

“This is so stupid, Ivar.”

“Tell me!” he shouted again, the speed of the Camaro getting a little faster.

“The first time no, cause it hurt,” your eyes skipped over watching the needle on the speedometer rise. “It was my first time…..but…the second time he did…. with a condom.”

That was it, Ivar shrieked and punched the center of the steering wheel making you jump. Adrenaline surged through you and you were both pissed off and out of patience. Fuck you Ivar, you said in your head.

“Feel better?” you jabbed. “Glad you know. Are my answers everything you hoped they’d be? Done treating me like I cheated on you…before we met?”

“Don’t fucking mock me,” he growled.

“You know what. Pull over. I’m done. I’m getting out.”

“No.”

“Pull over right now,” you glared at the side of his face. “I’m walking back to school.”

Leaning forward in his seat, his hand squeezed the wheel tighter and you felt the car speed up a bit more.

Okay, you thought, he wanted to fight. Wanted to attack you and punish you for something that happened in the past. That’s fine, you could hit back, hard, and aim right for his soft spots. 

Reaching up, you grabbed the chain of the locket around your neck and pulled it off up over your head. Unwinding the window, you looked over at him and dangled it out of the car.

“Pull. Over. Asshole.”

Doing a double-take, his eyes shot wide and he growled, taking a swipe at your arm holding the necklace but you shifted your hand away just in time.

“Pull over!” you shouted. “Or I’ll let go.”

His eyes blazed at you, terrifyingly, but somehow it worked. Magically, he hit the breaks and swerved off the road, the tires jumping from the pavement to the dirt shoulder on the side, jostling you both before coming to a dusty stop. 

Run, your own voice screamed in your head and you tossed the necklace in his direction and at the same time pulled the handle on the door, shooting out. Thank god, there was virtually no traffic and you rounded the back of the Camaro bolting straight out into the road, across the street, not looking back when you heard him scream your name. There was an opening in the guard rail fence and concrete steps down which you took, two at a time, knowing it led to a path that cut through the neighborhood back toward your campus. It was the very same path you and Kim and Amanda used to walk back in the days before boys and cars when everything was simple.

On you ran, not stopping when you heard him call a second time and without looking back, you imagined him standing at the top of the stairs, crutch under one arm, watching you desert him. It wasn’t until you reached the edge of the grass hockey field at your school, that you stopped and bent over, leaning on your knees, to catch your breath.

It was…. The whole thing was…. What just…

You couldn’t process it. Couldn’t put thought to what had just happened. It was insanity and you felt a rise of emotion making you straighten and look up at the sky, your hands on your chest as if it might help slow your speeding heart. Were you going to be sick? Throw up? Were you going to cry? Scream? Nope. You stopped and.... started to laugh. You started to fucking laugh. You laughed until your cheeks hurt and your eyes watered. You laughed like a psycho who hadn’t just been accosted by her boyfriend. You laughed as if it was all one big fat game.

Maybe it was shock. Maybe it was something else…but it was hard to stop. Feeling sweaty from the run, you took off your cardigan and tied it around your waist, and headed off in the direction of school not wanting to be late for your chem class.

Not once on that walk over, with a dazed smile on your face, did you think about what Ivar would do next.


	5. Chapter 5

By the following night without a word from Ivar, not a single call or text, and no sign of the black Camaro, you were no longer laughing. It felt like your world had collapsed to the ground. And, that alone was confusing as he was the one who had been such a prick. Right? Hadn't he? Still, it was impossible to escape the feeling of guilt and some hard-to-define panic.

Your Ivar! Your beautiful, intense, complicated Ivar; his only fault being how much he loved you.

Was it actually over, you wondered for the zillionth time? Could the two of you work it out or would you never speak again? Would he ghost you? Ah yes, that was the fear creating the panic; you were worried he would write you off as though you had never existed. Just that idea, despite his display of rage, made your blood run cold and your heart straight-up rejected the notion that you were better off without him.

After months of the two of you cocooning away and blowing off the world, you were grateful, grateful, that your two best friends had your back. One look at your pale, despondent face the previous day, walking into class, and they flew into BBF mode.

God, they were great but you questioned their thinking. How would going out, within 24 hours of your love story ending, possibly help you?

But... there you sat in your room wearing a one-shouldered purple dress and strappy heels while Amanda carefully lined your lips and Kim flat ironed your hair. They yattered away as if to distract you, talking about what an asshole Ivar was, a complete psycho, and thank god you hadn't slept with him. Eeeek, all that solidarity, and you had given them a watered-down version of what had happened during the fight.

Barely taking in their words, you thought over and over all that had been said in his car, questioning if it had truly been that bad. It felt awful at the time, but things seemed different after such a long time without hearing from him. Did it mean you had forgiven him? Definitely not but you still felt like a balloon bouncing in the wind without your Ivar.

Under it all, he just needed you and the thought of you with another guy was more than he could process. How can that be a bad thing? And it had been you, YOU, who desecrated his most treasured possession, his beloved mother's necklace, a necklace he had imparted so lovingly. Wasn't your behaviour as bad or even worse? Could he forgive you?

Tears rose in your eyes making the girls stop and stare, looking like a pair of barn owls.

"Oh babe," Kim whispered squeezing your shoulder and Amanda leaned in, looking as if she was pitying a dog.

"Tonight is exactly what you need," she nodded. "The dance will take your mind off of everything. Trust me."

WELL, THAT WAS A FUCKING LIE.

The school gymnasium was dark and stuffy, the music pounding and the strobes seemed to flash all the way into your brain. It was the last place you needed to be! God! Every guy wearing a leather jacket made you do a double-take and Ivar's absence screamed louder than the noise. Just twenty feet away your friends were dancing and yet you had never felt so alone. That must have been how Ivar felt, that day on the road, watching you run away from him. Your poor, love..... Where was he?

"Is it really you? Are you honestly here?" asked Mark Hasting as he, all-of-sudden, appeared at your side, reeking of weed and smiling one of his squinty-eyed smiles. "Mr. Lothbrok let you out of his grasp for a night. I almost don't believe it."

Not a word came out of your mouth and you looked from Mark back to the dance floor unable to tell him that the two of you had broken up. And..... that it was all your fault. Instead of easing Ivar's fears, you had doused gasoline on his pain. Should you tell Mark that? What a horrible person you were? Oh god, what had you done?

Taking a deep breath, a gasp really, you felt like you couldn't breathe.

"Mark?" you cried out and it turned into a sob.

"Yea, heeey, what's wrong?" he scrunched his forehead with concern and stepped closer.

"Can you give me a lift home? I can't be here right now."

\----

Waving your thanks to Mark, you watched him reverse out of the driveway and closed the front door. Not taking the time to remove your coat or turn on the lights, you riffled through your purse looking for your phone. You had to find Ivar.

Would you call or text? Call! Yes, calling would be better and if he didn't answer, you'd go straight over to his house. Oh god, that was a nerve-wracking thought, driving over and just walking in. What if he wasn't alone...what if some chic was there? Your mind began to spin as your insecurities played tricks despite knowing, in your heart-of-hearts, how unlikely that was.

Bringing his number up on our phone, you headed through your dark kitchen toward your room, your ears still humming from the music at the dance. Staring at his number, you slowed to a stop and leaned against the hallway wall, sliding down to sit on the carpet. It was time.... and it felt scary as you had no idea where to start and Ivar was not a guy to make things easy. It was no stretch of the imagination to envision him picking up and not saying a word, just listening on the other end as you stuttered on. Regardless, there were things that needed to be said and for your part in the horrible mess, you wouldn't keep score. Honestly, how could any girl keep score who dated Ivar Lothbrok?

Deep breath in, you steadied your nerves and hit dial, your ear pressed to the phone as it began to ring. Waiting, listening, holding your breath, you didn't at first hear the faint buzzing sound. It was when you lowered the phone that it captured your attention. Ending the call, you sat straining to identify it but all was quiet in the house; the sound was gone. Tapping his number again, you redialed, keeping the phone in your lap, your eyes fixed on the screen. The ringing began again along with that same buzzing.

Holy shit! Ivar was there! Somewhere in the house with his phone!

Ending the call, you weren't sure what to do but panic hit your chest, and as if on autopilot, you silently pushed yourself up to stand. You didn't call out his name, instead, walked, tiptoed, to your bedroom door hesitating when your hand touched the handle. Why weren't you calling out to him? Why was your door closed?

A thousand thoughts and feelings swirled in your head but none you could name. Snap out of it, you blasted yourself! It's Ivar, your boyfriend, your true love; the guy you had been pining for all day. Not some intruder on the other side of the door ready to do horrible things. Right? Of course not.... Of course not....you repeated to yourself.

Carefully you turned the knob and slowly pushed open the door. Your room was dark and at the end of your bed sat a hooded figure... waiting. The light was too dim to see his face and his hood concealed his outline. It was the tension in the air and the way his head suddenly tilted to one side, looking in your direction, that confirmed it was him.

"Oh my god!" you finally cried, and swiped the wall, hitting the light-switch on; both of you instantly recoiling and squinting from the brightness. "Ivar! You terrified me!"

Making no move to stand, he kept looking at you, his eyes skipping over your face and down your body, clearly analyzing the details of your appearance. It was his forced, joyless laugh that made every muscle in your body tense. Steadying himself, he fell silent before sighing in a way that gave no indication of his state of mind. Lifting his hand, he flicked his fingers, beckoning you closer, his wicked blue eyes conveying that all was not well.

Placing your phone on your dresser, you removed your coat, throwing it to the floor, and stepped out of your shoes. Walking toward him, you lowered to the carpet and stood on your knees, pushing in between his legs. He never took his eyes off yours and your mouth went dry from the intensity.

So fast it made you flinch, he brought his hands up and cupped your cheeks. Normally it would have melted your heart but his steeliness strummed all your nerves.

"Ivar?" you peered up into his bottomless eyes, his brows furrowed. "Babe, I was just calling you. All-day, I...."

"Where are your parents?" he cut you off. "They've been gone all day."

"Oh..." you hesitated, ignoring how he knew that, "They're away. My mom is gone until Tuesday, my dad was supposed to be back tonight but his flight got messed up. He'll be back tomorrow."

It was hard to know what answer he was looking for, but that didn't seem it as his face remained unchanged.

"They leave you alone over-night? A teenage girl with a bedroom on the ground floor and her fucking window unlocked. Any creep could get in."

The irony was lost on him and pointing it out was not the thing to do. Instead, you waited for him to finish, knowing he didn't actually want you to answer.

Not taking his eyes off you, he seemed to grimace as he, again, scanned your cheeks, and eyes and mouth, his eyelids narrowing further.

"And who are you so dressed up for, hmm? Mark?"

"No!" you rushed. "He just gave me a ride home from the dance. I asked him to. I was crying."

That admission made his face flicker but only slightly.

"I was upset about our fight and missing you," you explained.

Using your courage, you raised your hands and finally touched him, resting them on his thighs.

Instantly, he turned and you thought for a moment he was moving away but instead, he leaned back and grabbed the box of tissues from the nightstand.

"It's okay, I'm not upset anymore. Thank you," your eyes flitted down to the yellow box he held up for you.

"No," his face tightened, "Wipe your face. Take that stuff off."

"Wha?"

"That lipstick," he quipped, lifting his eyebrows and glancing at the box, urging you on. "And that crap on your cheeks."

Slowly, you grabbed a tissue, pulling it from the box, another withdrawing behind. As you wiped the pink gloss from your mouth, and blush from your skin, he reached up and pushed his hood back, exposing the extent of his exhaustion; his pale face and dark ringed eyes and messy hair that for the first time had no product in it. Seeing his weariness, you wondered what kind of sleepless and heart-broken roller-coaster he, himself, had been on since your fight.

Grabbing the dirty Kleenex from you, he tossed it onto the floor and took your chin in his hand making you wish he would just break the tension and kiss you.

"You know I don't like you wearing make-up."

"I know, it's just..."

"It's just what?"

"I don't know," you tried to look down, but he held your face in place, forcing you to look at him. You felt as if you were being scolded

"You don't need that shit. You are so beautiful." Shaking his head, his eyes lowered for a second and he sighed your name, his body and defenses softening and you jumped at the opening.

"Ivar," you whispered, rubbing your hands over his jeans. "Babe," you cooed softly making him close his eyes, frowning as if your affection pained him.

"What the fuck am I going to do with you?" he said quietly, opening his eyes and glaring. "What am I going to do?"

"Kiss me," you replied despite his harsh look, thinking of the first day he picked you up at lunch. "Kiss me, and everything else will come," you whispered and his face began to blur as tears rose in your eyes.

And like that, his mouth was on you, his hands holding your face, his breath revealing his relief and his whimper giving away his desperation. Your sweetheart was aching for you, all this time, but he had no idea what to do. His tongue pushed inside your mouth, his lips demanding more and you lifted your hands and gripped his hoodie, bracing yourself from the force of his emotions. Your beautiful Ivar had been adrift without you. Utterly lost!

Pulling back, he stared at you, his face filled with agony. "I love you so much," he whispered, his own eyes filling with tears.

"I love you too," you murmured back.

"Never. Reject. Me. Again," he articulated as his nostrils flared, his threat easy to hear but you could see past it. "From this moment on, this second on, we belong to each other. Even more than we did before. Do you hear me? You. Are. Mine."

"I was always yours, Ivar," you sounded like you were pleading for him to believe you. "And I always, always, will be. I need you," you whispered.

"I need you," he repeated back as if swearing a vow. "Now," he let go of your face and straightened. "Show me," he jerked his chin and the slightest wave of arrogance came over him. "Show me," he said again, raising his dark eyebrows expectantly. "With your mouth."

What?

Was this a test, you wondered, wishing he'd continue touching you with the same love and need you felt just an instant ago. But of course his defenses were still up; he was searching for reassurance. The same reassurance you didn't give the day before making the situation explode. Your poor Ivar, you would not let him down twice.

Nodding, you looked down at his lap, running your hands over the bulge in his jeans. If this was what he needed to feel your devotion, you would indulge him. In a flash, your quick hands had his jeans open, his beautiful cock upright in your grasp. It always amazed you how smooth his skin looked, his head a shade darker than the rest but all flawless with the slightest sheen.

Leaning down, you took him into your mouth, loving how it felt and his hand grabbed the back of your neck, not pushing but letting you know that he could. God, he tasted amazing; salty and clean and you tightened your fingers around his base and started to move.

Oh how you loved the way he hissed when you bobbed your mouth up and down, his hips jerking and his grip on your neck getting tight. Each time you took him into the back of your throat, it triggered that reflex and like some submissive craving pain, you were instantly turned on. What was wrong with you that the idea of suffocating on him made you wet? Picking up your pace made him moan and you began to slam down a little harder and a touch further each time, making yourself gag.

"Fuck!" he snarled in response clearly loving the sounds of it. "You want to choke on my dick, baby? Hmm?" he grunted out into the room. "Aw fuck I missed you. Last night and all fucking day, I missed you....so much."

On you moved, and sucked and slurped, your lips sliding down his shaft, your throat getting used to the roughness.

"I'm so lucky to be with you. Fuck!" he growled, rolling his hips up toward your mouth. "I don't give a shit about that other guy anymore. None of that matters. I just want to be with you. I love you."

That was the closest you knew he'd ever come to apologizing.

"Yea, baby, suck it," he groaned again, "Suck my cock. You're so beautiful. But don't get greedy, I have plans for you tonight."

Reaching down he yanked up the skirt of your purple dress, shimmying it higher until it was above your waist and you were kneeling in your thong. He obviously liked it as he growled and slapped your ass hard before pulling you off of him, his eyes staring at your mouth which must have looked red and puffy and totally wrecked.

"Get on the bed and open your legs."

"Pardon?" your eyes flashed wide.

"I'm going to make you mine."


End file.
